Frame of Mind
by Tenbris
Summary: In which Soul is nearing his breaking point regarding Maka and her summer clothes. [twoshot]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Requested by ilarual! Oblivious!Maka and angsty!Soul are something I like toying with in general, so this should be fun._

Soul gripped the arm of their couch as he watched Maka move through the apartment.

Somehow he was managing to ogle his meister and condemn her tempting existence at the same time; that black top was _sinfully_ well-fitting, and the way it hung off of one shoulder made his desire to run his teeth over the exposed flesh painfully real. It was torture, his meister's body, and he was an ever-so-willing prisoner. Those shorts weren't helping either, he noted, as his gaze traveled down her legs. Those stupid, overexposed, oft-bruised but _exquisite_ legs were the bane of his existence and the subject of many a fantasy, and _death help him, he could see where her thighs ended and the curve of her ass began_.

No class at Shibusen had taught Soul how to deal with romantic feelings towards his meister, much less lust. Her stupid short skirts were so damn _exposing_ during their fights, and he had lost count of the panty-shots he had been flashed. Sure, her underwear were all basic and practical, and it wasn't as if he hadn't seen them in the laundry before, but seeing them _on her_ and _clinging to her_ when he wasn't supposed to was strangely attractive. It wasn't his fault that he was a healthy teenage boy, dammit! Anyone in his position would have a hard time ignoring glimpses of where leg melded into very-off-limits crotch area.

And then there were those aforementioned legs.

Attached to the lovely booty of his meister, Maka's legs were long and powerful. More than once he had seen those legs lash out at some unlucky kishin egg that crunched a bit under her steel-toed combat boots, and it was _hot_. Well, perhaps it wasn't the mangled monster part of that equation that he found appealing. The point stood, though; Maka's legs were powerful tools of destruction, and despite the beating that they took and dished out, Soul would have been more than content to have them wrapped around his hips. Or face. Whichever.

That stupid shirt was driving him nuts, though. Maka was no longer a child, and his own insults from years past no longer had any basis in reality. Soul suspected that a push-up bra was involved tonight in some shape or form, since the cleavage that peeked over the shirt seemed just a _bit_ plumper than usual (trust him, he knew his meister's curves), but her breasts definitely could hold their own without it. There was something exceptionally tempting about breasts that he could palm in his hand and have them fit perfectly, and Maka's fit that criteria quite well.

And when Maka had to bend over to pick up whatever it was she had dropped in the kitchen, shirt and bra dipping down low enough to just barely expose the holy thing that is _nipple_, well, it was a miracle that Soul's brain short circuiting didn't make an audible noise, although the same could not be said for the strangled gasp that slipped from his slack jaw. His hands finally unclenched from the poor couch and Soul scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over the coffee table in his rush to escape to _anywhere but where his meister's nipple was on display_ because there was no way in hell he could retain his sanity if he caught another glimpse of that flesh, slightly puckered from the chill in the room–

_Shit_.

Soul's door slammed shut behind him, the wood a welcome barrier between him and the simultaneous dream and nightmare that was exposed meisterflesh. It was bad enough that lately Soul was having a hard time keeping his interactions with Maka purely platonic; kissing her was certainly out of the question, but Maka was oblivious to his self-serving motives when he nonchalantly took her hand in his and wove their fingers together. That little contact, where her tiny hands left lasting heat against his, was Soul's one guilty indulgence into his ever-so-off-limits fantasy.

His fingers knotted into his hair and Soul bit his lip to suppress a building groan of despair. He collapsed down onto the ground, leaning back against the wonderful protection that was his door. Maybe it was plausible that Soul could survive eternally being nothing more than a giant knife with feelings in Maka's eyes. Maybe he could be satisfied with protecting her and her happiness. Blood roared in his ears when the thought of Maka going off with some other dude entered his mind, and Soul tugged harder on his hair.

Maybe he could _somehow_ grit his teeth and bear it, but no fucking way if Maka kept on being unaware of the effects her stupid booty shorts and summer tops had on him. A shiver shot down his spine as the memory of her bending over sprung to mind, her taut ass in the air and her drooping top giving him a gratuitous view of her tits. Soul's fingers twitched, a desire to go back into the kitchen so that he could reach out and _grab_ her suddenly overcoming him.

His eyes screwed shut and he swore under his breath. The blood thundering through his veins was certainly more tainted than not, he could feel the madness in his pulse. Desire was a powerful thing. The obvious solution would be to go back to Maka, to let her soul's presence soothe the blistering heat that the black blood burned through him, but explaining what had set it off –– no, that was not an option.

The roaring in his ears was occasionally punctuated by a string of jazz, and Soul took the easy way out. Blankness of closed eyes gave way to dark curtains, and the little demon gave an exaggerated bow as he ushered Soul into the Black Room. The record player quickly became caught in a broken loop, and the oni flicked the needle upward to silence its complaining.

Soul took a seat at the piano and absently plinked a few keys, no real intent to play. Instead he reveled in the mostly-silence of his soul, broken only by the gnawing of the demon on its fingers and its occasional giggling.

Really, though, Maka's obliviousness was becoming a problem. Images of almost-exposed ass and perky nipples attached to perfectly sized breasts once again flooded Soul's mind, and here, in his own soul, he was free to give in. The oni cackled once and slipped away through the curtains, leaving Soul to drown in his taboo lust. The Black Room trembled around him as Soul imagined sliding his hand down below the hem of Maka's shirt, tracing along her spine as his fingers traced the piano's keys, and shifting a single finger into a blade to _rip the fabric from her skin_––

"Soul?"

His head snapped up and his eyes widened as the curtains where the oni had disappeared rustled, giving way to his meister's head as she peeked in. When her eyes settled on him, Maka sighed in relief and stepped in, and Soul watched as her top and shorts melted into an off-the-shoulder black dress. Something akin to chagrin bubbled in him when he realized that, despite it being the cause of his retreat into his soul, he would have preferred for Maka to remain in her earlier outfit. Perhaps the tendrils of madness that lurked in the shadows of the curtains were to blame for that, but Soul could not find it in himself to truly care. But there was no more time to spend thinking about Maka's clothing or imaginary lack-thereof; his meister had made her way into his soul.

Soul swallowed thickly and tried to keep his voice level. "What?" he managed, satisfied with the aloof tone. That didn't sound like he had just been fantasizing about her, right?

Heels clacking against the tiles, Maka stomped over to Soul's seat at the piano. "What are you _doing_?" she snapped, concern evident in her expression. "You ran out of the living room like a bat out of hell an hour ago, I've been calling your name for like fifteen of those minutes because dinner is ready, and when I come to check on you I can feel the black blood in you and your stupid door is barricaded shut!" She loomed menacingly over Soul, who was blanking at the thought of how warped time was in the Black Room. "You'd better have a good explanation, idiot! I was worried! I thought I'd find you drowning in madness or something, and you're just _sitting_ here!"

Shit. Shitshitshit. Soul's jaw hung slack as he ran all of his options through his mind. Time had slipped past him in his private room. Apparently his five minutes of fantasy had spanned an hour, and Maka had been calling for him, and his door was... barricaded? _Oh_. "Uh. About my door. I think it's my body blocking it...?" he squeaked, grimacing as he looked up at Maka's expression of horror. "I kinda just leaned against it and... came here?" Every sentence was a question when Maka's rage could end him in an instant.

"Soul, just_ what_ is up with you lately?" she groaned while covering her eyes and massaging her temples. "You're acting weird, I keep catching you zoning out and looking like a zombie, and half the time you won't even look at me when we're talking! And now you go lock yourself away all of a sudden and activate your blood?" Maka bit her lip, holding back anger for the sake of concern, and Soul could think of nothing but doing the biting for her, madness still tickling the back of his mind. "We should go talk to Stein if you're having trouble with––"

"No!" The outburst surprised them both, and Soul felt his face reddening. "No, I, uh," he stumbled for words, for amends to his objections. "It's nothing. Really."

Her whisper screamed confusion and betrayal. "Liar."

God fucking _damn_ it. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and tear down the curtains and _push Maka against the piano_, but the first two are more reason to be sent to the good doctor and the latter a one-way ticket to death by meister. Soul settled for avoiding eye contact, and he knew it was not good enough. "Look, I'm working on it."

Her eyes softened, but it is pain rather than acceptance that was reflected in jade. "It's something I did?"

It hurts it hurts it hurts to answer, but he did it anyways because he is Soul and she is Maka, and he cannot lie to her face. "It's... something wrong with me. About you." Her soul is inside of his, and he can feel the twinge of pain when she does. "It's not your fault. It's mine."

"Can you not tell me what it is?"

He wants to so badly, both for his and her sakes, but the thought of the backlash from telling her _I love you, and I'm lusting after you too _was just too much. He wanted to tell her of his desire to drag his teeth across her skin, to cup her breasts in his palm and tease her nipples, to pull her hips against his and feel her heat against him, and for a moment the entire room trembled with the sudden resurgence of _want_.

The tremors startled her, and Maka took a hesitant step closer to place her hand on his shoulder. "Soul?" She shifted so that her palm cupped his cheek and her fingers traced his jaw, and the heat of her skin on his became his undoing.

He stood abruptly and she stepped back in surprise at his jerky sudden movement. The cool air of the Black Room was a stark contrast to the heat that her hand left behind, and Soul shuddered. Somehow the old record had found itself playing again, and to its stuffy tune Soul led a confused Maka to the plush red couch settled in a corner. She sat daintily, peering up into his face with thinly veiled curiosity.

"Do you really want to know, Maka?" The words felt heavy, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "There's no turning back if you do. I can't turn back time, and I can't take this back." Her expression was blank for a moment, but her lips tightened and Maka nodded.

Soul reached out for her, and he cupped her cheek much like she had done to him. Her skin was soft, and for a moment he felt her shudder beneath his touch. It felt nice, her response to him, and it mingled with the flickering madness to give him courage. From her cheek to her neck, neck to shoulders, shoulders to clavicle and then back up to her jaw, his fingers mapped Maka's flesh and he relished the goosebumps he left behind on her skin.

Her voice was timid and quiet, so strange coming from his meister. "What are you...?" In response, Soul slowly leaned down to her level and hovered over her neck, giving her ample time to move before he pressed his lips against her pulse. "Ha... ahhh...?" she gasped, and Soul could feel Maka's pulse flutter beneath her skin. When his tongue flicked out to taste her, the gasp became a quiet moan, and the vibrations felt strange against his lips. Emboldened by her seemingly positive reactions, Soul tugged the dark ribbons holding her hair up free, and he then tangled his fingers into her ashen locks, tugging gently.

Maka's panting was hot against Soul's ear as he kissed his way up her neck, and her breathing stopped altogether when his tongue pressed wetly against the shell of her ear. He waited for it to start again, and then he sucked her earlobe between his lips and worried it with his teeth, tongue darting out to flick it occasionally. "Nnngh... Soul...," she gasped, and with a _pop_ he released the flesh from his mouth and pulled back.

Her eyes were smoky and half-lidded when Soul peered into them, and she nibbled slightly on her bottom lip. Rumbling and weighted to the point where his voice almost didn't sound like his own, Soul whispered, "Understand, Maka?" His fingers ran through the hair at the nape of her neck, relishing the cool strands' contrast with her flushed and heated skin. When Maka nodded slightly, eyes still somewhat distant, Soul pulled her face to his, and their lips connected. He could feel the air shift as Maka inhaled sharply, and when her eyes closed, he pushed her soul away and out of his own.

Returning to reality from the Black Room was always a strange experience. Soul always had compared the feeling to the "falling" sensation when nearing sleep, complete with the jarring awakening at the end. His heart pounded erratically as he attempted to steady his breathing. That was it. It was over. Maka knew now, knew how he felt, knew what he wanted, and she was going to come storming in any second now to crush his skull and kick him out. A twinge of regret pinched at Soul's heart as he realized that, if he was going to fuck everything up, he should have kissed her in the _real world_ instead of in his mind.

He sighed and lifted himself off the ground. Maka was most definitely outside of his door; he could feel the whirlwind of emotions


	2. Chapter 2

Returning to reality from the Black Room was always a strange experience. Soul always had compared the feeling to the "falling" sensation when nearing sleep, complete with the jarring awakening at the end. His heart pounded erratically as he attempted to steady his breathing. That was it. It was over. Maka knew now, knew how he felt, knew what he wanted, and she was going to come storming in any second now to crush his skull and kick him out. A twinge of regret pinched at Soul's heart as he realized that, if he was going to fuck everything up, he should have kissed her in the _real world_ instead of in his mind.

He sighed and lifted himself off the ground. Maka was most definitely outside of his door; he could feel the whirlwind of emotions that was her soul. Sitting on his bed, Soul simply waited for his fate.

His door did not open. There were shadows of feet visible in front of the gap, and the hall floor protested as Maka likely rolled from her heels to the balls of her feet, but the door remained closed. Soul's throat clenched with nervousness, but he forced himself to speak. "Come in if you're gonna come in. Don't just stand there." The squeaking stopped, and after a moment of silence the doorknob turned.

Silence hung heavy in the air between them. Maka shuffled awkwardly in the doorway, focusing on the apparently _riveting_ floorboards. Soul sighed and grabbed one of his pillows, a welcome fluffy barrier against the awkwardness floating between them.

"Um... Hi," murmured Maka, chancing a glance in Soul's direction. She watched him from beneath her bangs as he fidgeted. Soul focused on watching her face. Her face was where he would get warning of impending death from, not her clavicle or hips or legs. Whether it was bravery or stupidity prompting him, Soul jerked his head towards the empty space on his bed to bring his meister closer. Tension hung heavy in the air for another moment, and then Maka moved to perch daintily on the very edge of his mattress.

"Look, Maka–"

"Soul, I–"

Both of their mouths snapped shut as they shot each other glances. Soul hugged his pillow tighter and looked to his covers, while Maka examined her hands with astounding interest.

"Sorry." Soul broke the short silence with an apology, and he dared to look into Maka's eyes. What he saw was unexpected but not unwelcome; she was confused, and her soul's convoluted wavelength confirmed this. Soul hesitated to say more and instead just watched his meister, searching for her response.

Silence set in once again with Maka opening and closing her mouth several times. Soul noted that her cheeks were pink and his stomach flipped with the possible implications. Finally Maka settled on the words she wanted to say, and she spoke.

"I thought you said there was no taking it back." Soul jerked a bit at that, and the tables were turned; no longer was Maka the one looking confused, as he could not tighten his slack jaw or unknit his eyebrows and she had regained her confidence. Her back was straight and she looked him right in the eye, and the only indication of any nervousness was the way her thumb rubbed against her index finger restlessly.

Soul fumbled for a response, mouth opening and closing much like Maka's had before. "I... uh... Do you– do you not _want_ me to?" His chest felt tight, too tight, and he could feel each individual beat of his heart.

"Well...," she began, and Soul's heart sank. That sounded like backtracking, like searching for a way to let him down easily, and after getting his hopes up it was going to be damned painful crashing back down. "Maybe if you had done it outside of your mind it would've been nicer, but–"

Whatever she said next fell upon deaf ears. Soul's heart was absolutely flying; was Maka suggesting that he should kiss her again? Had she read his mind? Or maybe he was dying a slow death by Maka Chop and this was his brain's final hallucination, an image of what could have been if the stars aligned and he hadn't insulted her chest so often when he was young and stupid. Had he taken Maka's first kiss? Did it actually _count_ as a first kiss when it technically only happened in a non-real space? Was it his imagination or had she shimmied her top a little bit further off of her shoulder, exposing the edge of the cup of her bra? And, most important of all, _what the hell was he doing still wondering these things when she was implying that kissing him in reality would be nice?_ With that thought echoing loudly in his mind, Soul dropped his pillow-shield and on all fours moved to where Maka sat.

His hand trembled as he reached up to touch her cheek, rosy with her embarrassment. His voice was rough and raw with a whirlwind of emotions when he whispered, "Can I?"

It took every bit of self-restraint that Soul could muster to not throw himself on top of his meister when she nodded, blush deepening. This time, Soul started by taking it slow, agonizing as it was.

He leaned forward, taking his time to savor the closeness of Maka, her breath against his lips, her soul thrumming with what he hoped was anticipation and not fear. When his lips brushed against hers, Soul could feel the sharp intake of air Maka took and he hesitated, but she exhaled with what sounded like a whimper and pressed into him. Heat radiated off of her skin onto his, and Soul fought the urge to grab her shoulders and pull her into his lap, opting instead to slightly open his mouth and pull Maka's bottom lip between his. When her slight moan vibrated through him, he teased the flesh softly with his teeth, careful to keep the pressure gentle enough to not break skin.

It was Maka who pushed their new contact to another level; rather than a new exploration of his lips, however, she reached out with her soul. He welcomed the new connection, nervousness washing away with the tendrils of her essence touching him, and reciprocated by extending his soul to her as well. He could _feel_ the touch of his lips against hers from her perspective, and it sent strange tingles down his spine. He flicked his tongue out, tracing her lips, and the sensation vibrating between them was an experience all on its own. Her enjoyment, his pleasure, and the shocking revelation that was mutual _want_ were all on display.

It was like burning; Soul was burning and he couldn't find the will to stop. Everything was heat and contact and desire, and even as her soul touched his the Black Blood still boiled in his veins. The madness dared not take over, though; Maka's soul was far too close by, and Soul heard the oni "tch" once before falling silent. Instead, the blood spurred him on, granting him courage to reach for Maka and tangle his fingers in her hair, pulling her mouth even harder onto his and making their teeth clack jarringly. Her lips, her skin, her soul, her _everything_ was pulling him in further, deeper, closer to "never going to be able to look at her without getting hard again."

When they split, red-faced and breathing hard, Soul had trouble focusing. His heart was thudding in his chest and blood roaring in his ears, and nothing existed in the world except for Maka's flustered expression and the delicious way her top was rumpled. Somehow Soul had ended on top of her, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of her hips, and her ankles had hooked themselves around his back. Amidst their tangled souls and equally tangled sheets, whose limbs belonged to whom and pesky things like "taking it slow" had been lost in the swirl of sensation and emotions, and he felt Maka's soul and body simultaneously flinch back in embarrassment at that shared revelation.

It was only right to ask. "Do you want to stop, Maka?" It was one part question, two parts trepidation, and one part plea for her to say no. The fuse had been lit; he had kissed her, she had kissed him, and they had mutually kissed each other, among other things. Nothing could stop the chain of events that could follow, but she could choose the path. They could implode, crumbling in on themselves as they fought to pretend that this had never happened. Or, they could let it happen. Death knows that it was a long time coming; Soul had lost count of the times Blair had attempted to spur the two into a relationship, and the Thompson sisters had followed a similar agenda for years now, not to mention the Death Scythe's own feelings. His time spent with his soul and body tangled with Maka had laid bare her feelings as well, and to his elation Soul felt the slow burn of _love_ from her as well.

But Maka had to make the choice.

He nudged her soul with his own, softly, comforting, but also prompting her. "I'm okay with taking this slow," he whispered, smiling gently down at her. "I'm a little lost myself; it might be best to just... talk it out a bit later." Maka's mouth opened for her to speak, but it closed again when she lost her words. Soul hesitated, stomach clenching. "This is a little bit out of order now, and 'm sorry about that, but I figured I should say it. Love you." Her eyes widened and her soul fluttered, so he repeated himself. "I love you, Maka."

Her fear, her joy, her questions all flooded his mind, but when Maka finally spoke it was not an echoed confession; instead, she just whispered back, as if raising her voice any louder would break the moment and they would be in their separate beds, "Kiss me again?"

Soul had never been good at denying his meister.

Maka craned her neck to meet Soul's lips as he leaned in. Unlike the deep passion that had fueled the earlier kiss, this time it was nothing but gentle pressure. He kissed her once, twice, three times, peppering her lips with little displays of affection and punctuating them with breaths of "I love you." Beneath him, Maka trembled but welcomed Soul's actions. The truth of his words rang deep within her, and Soul could feel her elation at this revelation. He could not help but to kiss her again and continue to sing her praises.

Her lips were soft and pliable, molding easily against his, but soon Soul changed his pattern; he would brush his lips against hers, then against her cheek, her forehead, her lips again. Maka hummed out what sounded like enjoyment, and her neck twisted to allow him better access to her cheek where hair had previously gotten in the way.

The smooth and creamy expanse of her neck and jaw, however, was too tempting for Soul to pass up.

"Mmm... aaahh?" Maka's surprise at the heat of Soul's lips against her pulse was reduced to nothing but a groan with a questioning intonation. The rumbling of her gentle moan vibrated through Soul's lips, and he couldn't help but to smile against her flesh. His tongue darted out to taste her, and he was rewarded by another small moan and the puckering of goosebumps beneath his lips. "Soul... mmm..."

His tongue was soon joined by his teeth as Soul carefully nipped at the sensitive skin and then licked the reddening areas. If Maka's sounds were any indication, she was enjoying this exploration as much as he was, and that knowledge spurred him on. From her neck to her jaw to her collarbone, Soul sucked and nibbled his way across the skin exposed to him, and Maka arched herself forward to press deeper into his ministrations. When he pulled her earlobe between his lips, rolling it between his teeth hard enough to earn a slight yelp from his meister, Maka's hips jolted off of the bed against his, and the resulting friction froze them both.

There was absolutely no way that she hadn't realized that he was _painfully_ erect, Soul realized with sobering clarity. Maka's eyes were wide, and her hips were still locked against his, courtesy of her ankles that remained hooked around his back. His cock, although still constrained by boxers and pants, was pressed flush against her crotch, and the heat radiating from there was almost enough to make him come undone. Instead of finding a way to resolve the current situation, to explain _"sorry, that's a thing that happens when you're ridiculously hot underneath me and I'm kissing all over your body, oh and a thing that happens when you just exist because I seriously want to bone you,_" in a way that wouldn't result in his death, Soul could focus on nothing but the way that between her legs was infinitely warmer than the rest of her and that that _might_ mean that beneath her clothes she was as wet as he was hard. The thought would have been enough to short-circuit his brain when she _wasn't_ tangled with him, and in the current situation, well, he just could not help the instinctive reaction to press harder into her.

Maka gasped, legs tightening around him again. A buzz of surprise and arousal hummed from her soul, mixing itself in with Soul's already addled mind. Meister legs wrapped around him, _pressing_ against him, had been a long-lived fantasy. Living it, and being able to feel that she wanted it too, was driving Soul mad, and he met her arching hips with his over and over. There was nothing but heat and want, and whose desire was whose became muddled as their souls met and melded together along with their bodies.

When Maka began to moan louder and more frequently, grabbing onto Soul's hips and angling them _just so_ against her own, Soul simply dipped his head to her jaw again as he ground desperately against her. The friction was almost painfully delightful when he ignored the very real chance of chafing from his boxers, but as Maka's voice rose an octave and she began to intersperse "oh _death_, Soul" between moans, he focused on nothing but making _more of that sound_. Maka grabbed his hand and pulled it up to her collarbone, and he traced the skin there before she forced his hand _lower_. Thanks to the nature of her top, it took little to no effort for her to push her hand and bra down off of one breast and maneuver his hand over it.

Certainly he had died and gone to heaven, right? Maka's breast fit perfectly into his palm, and she moaned when he squeezed the supple flesh. His thumb flicked over her nipple, and when that made her hips buck even harder against him, he rolled it between his fingers, squeezing lightly.

He could not have anticipated the sensations that accompanied experiencing someone else's orgasm via soul resonance.

It was not unlike the sudden release of pressure that came with a usual orgasm, but rather than feeling it physically, having his dick pulse and throb as he came, he felt it throughout his entire being. And yet, he didn't. Much like feeling touch on his weapon form, Soul could experience the pressure, the sensations, but it was somewhat detached. Still, the phantom feeling of release combined with the visuals of Maka writhing and breathing heavily beneath him was almost enough to send Soul over the edge. But he was cool, and cool guys didn't cream their pants like the ever-so-virgin guy he was, so he screwed his eyes shut and imagined Spirit in a speedo as Maka rode out her orgasm against him.

Maka's ankles loosened and her legs slipped off from around Soul, sliding down onto his mattress. Her eyes fluttered shut, and Soul could feel her pulse hammering against his lips on her neck.

"You okay?" His voice was deep and rough as he struggled to keep it from shaking. He shifted to look down at her once again, the need to avoid seeing her prone beneath him fading with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

It took a moment for Maka to respond. "Yeah," she breathed, eyes opening. "I, uh... yeah. More than okay, actually." The pink on her cheeks, already present from exertion, darkened as she watched the ceiling rather than Soul.

Soul flashed his teeth in a grin. "Cool."

Settling in next to her limp form, Soul pulled Maka close to him, and she did not resist. He nuzzled her head, breathing deeply the scent of her fruity shampoo, and she hummed contentedly. He pressed a kiss into her hair, and Maka shifted to look at him.

"Did you mean it?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her soul, still linked with his, fluttered like a little bird.

There was no question. "I did. I do," he breathed back, nudging her forehead with his own. "I love you."

The sudden pressure of her hot little hand against his erection, still straining against his pants yet all but forgotten in the intimate moment, grabbed Soul's immediate attention. Maka's little smile turned sly and predatory, and she purred out, "Good. _Let me show you my answer_."

He could never say no to his meister.


End file.
